


Small Town Blues

by Elida



Series: Aurora [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Eventual Relationships, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elida/pseuds/Elida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ms. Garland shielded herself from the downpour with a large umbrella and wore an ill fitting polyester dress suit, the color of a dull afternoon. It was all terribly expected. She did not need to say anything really; Bucky just followed her to her car. The circle always led back to the social service office."</p><p>They pass each other in the system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Town Blues

Bucky understood instantly when he spotted Ms. Garland, who waited by the gate as he made his way down the entrance steps of Aurora High. She was trouble, the bearer of bad news, and had been so since the day she picked him up by the cemetery on the day of his father’s funeral. Bucky remembered how he had been pulled away even before the grave had been properly filled. _Dirt on his knees and how he desperately tried to brush it of in the backseat of that new, fancy car. Air conditioning on full blow and an intrusive smell of plastic._

The evening before, Mrs. Fairbairn had pulled him aside after the dinner, and while the rest of the family settled in the living room to watch Born Lucky she had explained it all to him. _Too much trouble. Now with Billy’s diabetes and all. Really sorry, sincerely. You're a good kid James._ He had just nodded along, _of course, yeah, of course_. It was nothing new, the steps were all familiar.

Ms. Garland shielded herself from the downpour with a large umbrella and wore an ill fitting polyester dress suit, the color of a dull afternoon. It was all terribly expected. She did not need to say anything really; Bucky just followed her to her car. The circle always led back to the social service office.

***

Huddled in a corner, with blonde hair plastered to his forehead and his nose stuck in a book, sat a boy. The hustle around him - the phone at the reception that never seemed to stop shrieking, a lady hurrying past and almost stepping on him with her pointy heels –didn’t seem to become him at all. He sat silently, almost serene, and only moved to flip the pages.

Bucky instantly felt jealous. If he could feel as calm as the boy looked to be… . He went to sit beside a sniveling lady on the couch in the opposite corner.

Ms. Garland had told him to wait, and wait he did. The lady on his side was soon replaced by a man whose worn tweed jacket stunk of tobacco.  He in turn disappeared after a while, and in his stead a girl who could not be older than eighteen, with a baby on her hip, took seat. The girl was absorbed in a conversation on her phone, and all the while she spoke she twined the drawstring on her hoodie between her fingers.   Up and down, up and down.

When the girl and the baby disappeared into one of the offices Bucky stopped paying attention to the people who came and went. The minutes passed, turned to hours, _maybe_. Bucky could not tell. He did not care.

Finally, when the light from the streetlamps casted long shadows on the waiting room floor, the room now empty, all but for him, Ms. Garland appeared in the doorway to the offices.

“James, would you be so kind and come with me for a moment?”

Bucky rose to his feet and grabbed his backpack. He was just about to follow Ms. Garland in to her office when he spotted the boy in the corner, still there. He hadn’t moved an inch since Bucky last laid eyes on him, but instead of reading he now rested his small head against the wall. Eyes shut, face lax. In his lap lay his book, forgotten.

Bucky watched him for a moment, before hurrying after Ms. Garland.

Ms. Garland’s office was cramped. Every inch of the walls was covered by bookcases, with journals, books, binders and case files balancing precariously on the edge of almost every shelf. Even her desk was a mess with documents strewn all over it. The bin under it was overfull, and the plants on the windowsill sorely needed water, shrunken and shriveled as they were. Coming in to the room always put Bucky slightly on edge.

Ms. Garland had taken place behind the desk, and the light from the desk lamp lit her up from below.

“I wasn’t able to find a family for you with such short notice. I need to lock up here; it is way past closing hours, so the best option is for you to sleep at my place tonight. Is that all right?”

She put it as a question. As if Bucky had any choice or say in the matter. He wanted to confront her, but when he opened his mouth to voice his displeasure something entirely different slipped out.

“What about the boy in the waiting room? Is he coming too?”

Ms. Garland tilted her head and knitted her eyebrows tightly together.

“What boy?”

Bucky could tell from her posture that she wanted to give off an air of control, but she was not able to hide the note of confusion in her voice,

“The blonde one in the corner. The tiny one.”

Without another word Ms. Garland brushed past him and back out in the waiting area.

“Steve!”

Bucky peeked around Ms. Garland just as the boy on the other side of the room jerked awake.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

The boy quickly pulled his hands through his hair in a desperate attempt to make himself presentable. He fumbled as he stood up and Bucky was overwhelmed by fondness for him as the tranquil bubble that had previously surrounded him was abruptly popped.

“I’m sorry miss! I didn’t mean to- I mean… Dad went on a rampage. Again.”

His voice was surprisingly deep, grounded even; but it trembled slightly as he spoke.

“I came here after school, and Mrs. Oswald told me to wait for Mr. Zola to get back from his lunch. He never showed up though. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Arnim went home early today. He had a trip planed to Philadelphia. His parents live there, you know.”

Ms. Garland sounded almost apologetic.

“Oh. Alright. So… I guess I should get going then…”

The boy, Steve, reached for his book on the floor, where it had landed when he had scrambled up. He also picked up his blue rain coat and a black woolen scarf.

Bucky felt bad for him, and when he turned to Ms. Garland he saw her biting her lower lip.

“Steve. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. James here is coming to stay at my place for the night. Maybe you should come as well. Let things cool off at home. How about that?”

Steve gave them both a hesitant look.

“Alright.”

***

Bucky rested his head against the window as Ms. Garland drove her car carefully down empty streets. Steve sat on the opposite side of the seat and when the radio played old tunes he hummed along, silently tapping his fingers against his thigh.

***

It was a tiny room, almost a closet, and in it only one wobbly bed.

“One of you will have to sleep on the sofa.”

When Steve and Bucky only nodded, Ms. Garland continued.

“I’ll go get you some blankets. Please, make yourself ready in the meantime. The bathroom is right by the hall and there are some extra toothbrushes in the cabinet, on the top shelf I think.”

With that she hurried away.

Bucky glanced over at the other boy. He had no idea what to say.

“You can take the bed. If you want.”

Again, Bucky was struck by how deep his voice was. He wanted to argue, Steve looked far more tired than Bucky felt. His whole composure was deflated, and Bucky had noticed how he had kept rubbing his eyes on the way over. _But_.

“Thanks.”

Steve shot him a smile over his shoulder.

“Let’s go seek out those toothbrushes!”

***

The only thing Bucky knew when he woke was that time had passed _. Five minutes? Five hours?_ He turned over to look out the window. It was still dark outside. The air, streaming in where it was somewhat ajar, was cool and nice on Bucky’s hot skin. For a second he was confused as to why he had woken, and then he noticed how the door was cracked open. Light slowly creeping in from the hallway. On the threshold, _Steve_.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Well, what did you mean to do then? Creep on me?”

Bucky heard the other boy suppress laughter into a snort.

“Well when you put it that way…”

His voice was warm and filled with humor, but when he continued he also sounded slightly uncertain.

“I don’t know…I guess I came to check on you.”

“What for?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was stupid…sorry.”

Steve turned away, prepared to leave. Bucky didn’t want him to go. 

“Come here.”

He raised his sheet from the mattress.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Stop being sorry and come over here.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t care. I don’t sleep well alone, do me a favor.”

Steve paused on the threshold for a second before he crossed the short distance to the bed. Without a word he crawled under the sheet and turned his back to Bucky. They lay in silence, side by side, separated only by a small gap. Just as Bucky was about to sink into the haze, he heard Steve mumble.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Then sleep took them both.

***

The morning arrived too soon and woke both boys with brilliant sunshine. During the night they had tangled together, making the bed nothing but an increasingly sweltry heap of sheets and limbs. As Bucky worked on freeing himself from the mess he shot a glance at Steve, and nudged him to get moving. Steve, though awake, seemed to have no ambition to rise whatsoever. When Bucky shook his leg loose he simply turned on his side and pulled the sheet to his chin. A small smile played on his lips, and none of his hesitance from the previous night seemed to linger.

“Close the curtains on your way out, could you? I’m turning into a puddle”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

“And bring me my breakfast, please.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No.”

Steve watched him innocently from the bed.

“Too bad.”

Bucky plucked the T-shirt he had stripped the night before from the floor, and pulled it on.

“You look like you could use a meal. Or twenty. But I’m not your man servant.”

And as Steve pulled the sheet over his head with a groan, Bucky left to stuff himself full.

***

Ms. Garland was already up and dressed as Bucky sauntered into the kitchen. Seated at the table, she was skimming through the morning paper, smoothing the pages out with one hand while the other fiddled with her collar stud. A glass of orange juice stood half empty on the side. She looked up as Bucky approached her.

“James, good morning! Did you sleep well?”

“Sure...”

“Good, good… "

Ms. Garland paused for a moment.

"...I’m sorry for asking but…did Steve join you?”

“Uuhm…”

“I’m just asking because the sofa was empty when I got up, and it wouldn’t be so good if he’s run off somewhere …”

She smiled while she spoke, but it was strained.

“Oh, no. No, he slept with me…I mean, we didn’t sleep together…like… _"_

As Bucky rambled on, Ms. Garland’s expression softened.

“Good. That’s good.”

She seemed to want to say something more, but before she had the chance, Steve made his entrance. His hair was all on one side, and pillow marks ran from his forehead to his chin. He made an awkward little wave.

“Morning.”

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence that lingered as the boys packed up their belongings. It was only after the fact, when Steve had been dropped off at his bus stop - _come in to the office this afternoon, I’ll speak to Arnim on the phone -_ that Bucky realized that he might not see Steve again. The thought left him feeling empty.

***

Of course, Bucky should have known that no one is a one time visitor at the social service office. The next time he encountered Steve was only a few months later. He was one his way out, positively fuming, after a meeting with Ms. Garland. _We’re thinking about a group home. You won’t have to move around so much that way. Much better, we think. Kids with the same problems as you. Extra support._ Too caught up in his own thoughts, he missed to notice the boy coming up the steps. Bucky sent him sprawling.

“Watch it!”

”Oh my god, I’m so sor…”

Then Bucky caught the other boy’s face.

”Steve!”

Steve struggled to sit up. He shot Bucky a glare before realization dawned on him.

“James! “

“It‘s Bucky. Call me Bucky.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Bucky came to his senses. He hurried down the steps and offered Steve his hand. As he pulled him up from the ground, he managed a closer look at Steve.

He had not changed much. His hair still fell into his eyes, and his cheeks were still a little too gaunt. He was still short, and his knees and elbows still looked dangerously sharp. New, however, was a large bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and a split in his lip from where blood still flowed leisurely. Scratch marks ran over his cheek, and Bucky spotted more crawling from his collarbones down under the neck of his T-shirt.

“What happened to you?”

“I could ask the same, you never called.”

When Bucky didn’t laugh, Steve dropped his smirk and shrugged instead.

“You know, the usual…”

“This is **_the usual_**?”

“What are you, my mum?”

“No, but you’d think she’d care about stuff like this…”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Not around, as in…”

“As in dead, yes.”

An awkward silence filled the space between them.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.”

Steve shrugged again.

“They’re placing me in a group home.”

Bucky had absolutely no idea why he said that _. Out of all things_. Maybe it was a backwards way of showing sympathy, to drag up his own troubles. To make it all seem more normal.

“That sucks.”

“Well, yeah.”

For a moment they just stood there, facing each other. Steve scraped his left foot around in the gravel, Bucky wrung his hands.

“I hope he gets what he deserves. Your dad.”

“Hope the group home works out.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

And they went their separate ways. Steve hurried up the steps. Bucky caught the bus on the corner to get home and gather his things.

***

Days turned to weeks turned to months; summer to autumn to winter. Suddenly the year had come to an end, and Bucky found himself watching fireworks in a deserted parking lot. Natasha was there, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as they toasted the New Year with cheap vodka. Bucky did not know for sure, but he suspected that it was stolen.

Natasha was the first person he had met at the group home he had been assigned to that summer. She had sneaked in to his room while he unpacked his bag, and flipped herself onto his bed.

 _“Welcome to hell,” she had said_.

She had been a sight. Red hair flowing freely around her shoulders like wildfire, and thin scars weaving a spider's net, running up and down her forearms.

They had become friends almost instantly.

Long summer nights had been spent by Bucky’s window. Natasha had taught him to smoke cigarettes without filters, and they had competed in telling tall stories. The longer the nights went, the wilder the attempts to trump each other.

_“I’m a Russian spy assassin. I can walk through walls.”_

_“Well, I’ve got a killer metal arm, and everything you know you learnt from me.”_

_“You wish.”_

Some nights, Bucky felt more earnest, and he would tell Natasha about his family. About his father, who died stupidly in a gas explosion on the army base he had been assigned to, about his mother who had disappeared into herself long before that. Natasha never shared anything of her own, but she held Bucky’s hand whenever his voice got shaky.

As the fireworks died down Natasha resolutely handed him the vodka bottle.   

“I’ve got to tell you something. You won’t like it.”

Bucky, pleasantly lulled from the booze, just smiled absentmindedly.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I’ll catch a bus to Chicago.”

“What…?”

“I’m going to Chicago.”

“What the fuck are you gonna do in Chicago?”

“I’ve got a friend there.”

“You’ve got a friend **here.** ”

What had been a nice buzz was slowly turning into something else, something sharp.

“I knew you weren’t going to like it.”

“Why are you even telling me this?”

“Don’t get all defensive, I’m telling you now ‘cause I won’t have time to later. And I wanted you to hear it from me."

Bucky paused for a second.

“Fuck off then.”

Natasha let out a sad chuckle and turned to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

And with that she left him.

Left in the cold, watching her disappear around the far corner, Bucky took another swig from the bottle. And another.

***

The first thing Bucky heard when he came to was the muffled voice of someone speaking to him. His head pounded. His arms and legs were filled with lead. As it was, Bucky couldn't make himself respond, and so he didn't.

"Sam! Sam, come here!"

There was something familiar about that voice. Bucky knew that voice from somewhere.

Footsteps closed in, quick and light, and a new voice spoke.

"Oh my god, is he dead?"

"No idiot, he's not dead...or at least I think not."

Someone grabbed Bucky's shoulder and shook him. He felt his stomach roll and let out a weak groan. 

"Hey, come on."

The first voice was encouraging , and the hand that had shaken his shoulder gently moved to support Bucky's head instead. 

"I never imagined that we would meet again this way."

And with that, Bucky could place the voice. He struggled to open his eyes and squinted at Steve who was kneeling on his right. 

"Hey..."

Bucky mumbled so quietly that it was a miracle that Steve heard him at all. 

"Hey."

"Do you two know each other?"

Bucky turned his head slightly to take in the boy that stood a few steps behind Steve. He watched Bucky with his head tilted to the side. He looked a bit put off, with the way his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. When he met Bucky's eyes though, he slowly uncrossed them and shoved his hands in the pockets of his down jacket.

"So, this is Sam," Steve gestured to the other boy, and then back to Bucky, "and this is Bucky. Sam, meet Bucky. Bucky, meet Sam."

The presentation seemed to be enough for Sam, because he gave Bucky a nod.

"Nice to meet you, even under...you know...the circumstances."

Steve snorted, but then turned his attention back to Bucky, and searched him with concern. 

"How are you? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Totally fine," Bucky tried to smile, but he had apparently split his lip at some time, because it stung when he strained it just the slightest. 

"I think we should take a look at that. You're coming with us!" Steve pulled himself together to stand.

"He is?" 

Sam didn't seem all too keen, but he relented quickly when Steve shot him a look, and went to offer Bucky his hand. 

"Come on. Wouldn't want to argue with Cap."

"Cap?"

"He's giving the orders," Sam answered with a shrug.

***

They claimed that they were taking him to Sam's place, but standing in front of a grand villa that must have been from the turn of the century, Bucky felt quite sure it had all been lies. The lawn that stretched out, covered in frost. The ornate doorknobs and the grand balcony on the second floor. If Sam really lived in this house, there was no way he would associate with the likes of Steve and Bucky. If Sam really lived in this house he would be miles away right now, celebrating new years on a luxurious ski resort or on a tropical island. Bucky told Sam as much.

"You're right. I guess you aren't as dumb as you look, even when you're drunk. Good for you man!" Sam snickered as he hunched in front of the lock and started to pick it.

Without pause, Steve shoved him hard enough to make him loose his balance.

"Hey! What? Do you want us to get in or not?"

"Stop being an asshole!"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_!"

Bucky cleared his throat, and both boys turned to look at him.

"Whose house is this really?"

An almost mad grin spread on Sam's face.

"This is Johann Schmidt's house."

"Who?"

"Johann Schmidt. A city council bigwig, but don't worry, he's out of town. Ski resort or tropical island - you take your pick."

"Why..."

"Because Steve has had a shitty year, and this shitty town hasn't done anything to make it any less shitty. In fact, if possible, it has made it worse. So this is revenge, of sorts."

When Bucky cast a look at Steve, he only smiled apologetically.

 "It was Sam's idea..."

"Oh, don't you dare! You thought it was the best plan ever, don't you dare lay the blame on me to keep your pristine boy scout reputation."

The rant seemed to amuse Steve, who merely raised an eyebrow.

"You mean the one I had before or after I got kicked out of school?"

"You got kicked out of..."

"You two can play catch up when we get inside. Just shut up for a minute and let me work."

***

Sprawled out on the Sofa, Bucky took in the lavish living room that belonged to Mr. Johann Schmidt. A large fireplace was located at the bottom of a stairwell on the right side of the room, and its frame was carved from black marble. Paintings clad the walls, with motives as pompous as the house itself, most of them clearly inspired by norse mythology.

Sam wandered around the room and stopped here and there to take a closer look at all the things that caught his interest.

Steve had gone straight for the bathroom to find a first aid kit or at least something to clean Bucky's scrapes with. When Bucky had tried to protest that it was not at all necessary he had just been waved off and Sam had muttered _don't even try._

"I knew he was a freak, but what the hell?" The exclamation made Bucky jump, and he turned to glare at Sam.

"What?"

In response, Sam held up an object for Bucky to see.

"You're too far away. What is it?"

"It's a SS emblem! It's fucking Nazi memorabilia."

"Put that down Sam, please." Steve said as he returned from the bathroom with band aid, towels and a small bowl of steaming water.

"But man, come on, doesn't it freak you out?"

"Yes, it does, so please put it down."

"We should report him or something! The City Council would totally kick him out if they knew."

"Are you dumb, report him for what? For having a distasteful trinket? How would we even know that? I don't suppose you want to tell them we broke in to his house for fun, because in that case bye-bye graduation, hello juvie. Now put that down, and come over here and help me."

Sam did so, but when he sat down on Bucky's left side he grumbled:

"I'd just like for that guy to get what he deserves, especially after what he did to you Steve.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Me too."

After carefully placing the bowl of water on the sofa table, Steve kneeled in front of Bucky and raised one of the damp towels to his face.

"Tell me if it stings."

It did sting, but more than anything, Steve's gentle dabbing made Bucky feel more calm than he remembered feeling for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever written, and in fact the first thing I've ever written outside of school assignments, so I feel terribly self conscious about it.
> 
> English is not my first langiage, so feel free to correct any mistakes.
> 
> Also, thanks for reading<3


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